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After a game of tennis where I suddenly seemed to be playing zinging well-placed shots like a proper grown-up, I headed to the supermarket to pick up some milk and potatoes. I fancied that this would all fit in the carrier bag I keep the tennis stuff in, but inevitably I bought a few extra bits and so needed a bag.
Being a brilliant thief of the inconsequential (in spite of my many pick n mix appropriations I have never been caught), I made the decision to claim at self-service check out, that I was using my own bag. I viewed it as my own. Though in that moment, it was stolen.
Almost as soon as I had done this I was aware of a store employee standing beside me, looking at me and saying nothing. My initial thought was that this was amazing security. As far as they were concerned I had only stolen the bag that second and unless they now had spotters in the store, ready to catch people like me who have no regard for the law (apart from paying for everything else).
The way he was looking at me was almost enough for me to confess or at least to try and make up some kind of pathetic excuse - "Oh my God, I've just realised I pressed the wrong button. I thought this was my bag. I know I only picked it up a few seconds ago, but I forgot."
But luckily I said nothing because it turned out that the man was a big fan of Pottery Throwdown and wanted to commend my work and ask me a few questions about his show. Another staff member excitedly joined him. And I told them about going to Stoke and that I couldn't tell them who won and that it was hard work but lots of fun.
I had gotten away with it, probably because the Scooby Doo gang are fixated on crimes involving people dressed up as ghosts, something that happens much less in real life than they might think.
And yet I had been lucky. Here I was thinking I was an anonymous shopper, who like maybe 60% of shoppers felt they didn't need to pay for their bag at a self-service check out. But thanks to having been on the TV this week, eyes had been on me the whole time I was there. They might easily have seen me take the bag and then claim to have brought in my own bag. All these years of keeping a low enough profile to live a Dick Turpin life of crime (maybe more Dick Turnip, but I bet in cash value I have stolen more than Turpin because you could buy a house for the price of a single pick n mix sweet in his day) and now I'd potentially blown my cover by appearing in something that people actually watch.
I shook the hand of the man who I had just robbed blind and walked out of the place. It felt bad. Being evil is harder than people would think.
Imagine if I had been apprehended and the press had somehow got hold of this story. My career would be over.
So no difference then.
At least no one will ever catch me for my crimes. I have made no mistakes that would lead to my capture.
